


Of the Coming of the Ancients

by NebulousMistress



Series: The Red Book [5]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: Episode: s03e10-e11 The Return, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-28 19:07:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10837539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NebulousMistress/pseuds/NebulousMistress
Summary: The Lanteans gave the City back to the Ancients without argument. That has not quenched the need to know.





	1. Of the Folly of Farming

I am no farmer. The Genii are right about that. I was never a farmer. Farmers lived by the river, traded water rights with the tlak-tcho, shipped their goods along the rails. I admit I trained near the river, learned how to hunt, how to track, how to fend for myself in the wilderness but I was stationed in the city. I grew up in the city.

I always dwelt in cities before the Wraith came. After that, well, I wasn't a farmer then either. The constant labor of tava bean farming is not what I had in mind for my life. Even on the run I hunted, I fed, I escaped, I never did this kind of work. My hands have never felt this sore.

The Wanderer has decided I'm his caretaker. He came through the Ring before the Genii, I know he brought them here. Radim himself came to offer me a place in the Genii army. To be fair, their army needs someone like me. They have powerful weapons but no wisdom, no stealth, no skill in their use. But ever since I was betrayed and set loose to run I have worked for myself. Even among the Lanteans I worked for myself. Sheppard envisioned himself my taskmaster and I allowed it, but I like to believe he understood me better than the story he told to his military.

I am sore and exhausted. I have been wielding a spade all day, on my hands and knees dragging weeds out from the tava fields, tying vines to stakes. This is not the work I'm used to. I run, I hunt, I fend, I hide, I stalk, and I kill. This is none of those things. This is child's work.

Teyla will understand. She knows I'm not happy here. I won't join the Genii, though. I will work for myself. The Genii will understand that or I will leave.

That's why I've decided. I'll meet with the Genii. But not here, not on New Athos. I need to be somewhere I can run.

I've been to a hundred worlds around a hundred suns, always running, always wondering if the next Ring I dial at random will end with my death. I pick one of those worlds, abandoned and empty, a barren desert, a garden of rocks. I take with me three days of food, three skins of water, and the Wanderer. I let him see the address as I dial.

If the Genii aren't there in three days I'll come back and they'll have lost their chance.

*****

Two days later the Ring opens. I watch from underneath one of the red stone arches as a half dozen Genii come through, weapons raised in defensive positions. They don't know what to expect.

I'm not surprised. The Wanderer they sent to spy on me wouldn't talk.

Radim isn't here.

I expected Radim to come himself. Sheppard always went himself, he prided himself in his willingness to take on any risk he'd ask of his men. This does not leave me impressed with Radim's command style.

“Ronon Dex!”

One of them must be a commander. I can't tell from the uniform, not this far away. He keeps his weapon pointed at the ground in front of him and calls out for me.

“Ronon Dex!” he calls again.

He's going to wait for an answer then. Fine. I know these rocks and their secrets. I move away from the arch into the towers and shout my answer at the stones. “State your business,” I shout. The echo is deafening to my ears and I know the Genii won't be able to pinpoint where it comes from.

The commander sends out his men in a fan pattern. Basic search pattern, he doesn't know where I am. However, I notice none of his men are assigned to my general direction. My 'vector', McKay would have called it. So he does know where I am but he wants me to think otherwise. Interesting.

“Chief Radim of the Genii sends his regards,” the commander shouts. “He hopes you've reconsidered his offer.”

“I'm listening,” I shout.

“You are a terror of great renown,” the commander shouts. “You're wrong to think your legend began with the Lanteans. You were called 'Proud Death' before the Lanteans found you.”

I know that name. A Wraith gave me that name before I escaped his capture and slew his drones. I never caught the bastard, he must have told others of me. I shouldn't be surprised that the Genii have spies among Wraith worshipers but I do allow myself to feel disgusted.

“You survived as Proud Death for seven years. Nobody else can make that claim. You can teach your skills of survival to the Genii army. You could have a squad of your choosing, men who answer only to you and to the Genii government, for missions of strategic importance in the war against the Wraith.”

“Men who answer only to me,” I shout. It's a demand to test how serious they really are. Are they willing to compromise to do what it takes?

“That can be arranged.”

“What else can the Genii offer me?” I call.

“Vengeance.”

I laugh at his one word answer. “I can get vengeance on my own. I once garroted a Wraith with my hair, I can do it again.” That may be an exaggeration but I'm sure this commander's Wraith worshiper contacts embellished the story more than that. “I've run through the Ring with nothing but my knives and my pride. I've salvaged food, clothes, armor, weapons. I don't need the Genii. You need me. I ask again, what else can the Genii offer me?”

The commander whistles. It's a signal, one of his soldiers comes running back. They whisper among themselves before the soldier heads back through the Ring. I'm too far to see the symbols but I have no doubt. Back to Genia.

“We will see,” the commander says. “Until then, perhaps you might be more comfortable if you weren't perched in the pillars.”

Yes, they know exactly where I am. To quote Colonel Sheppard, 'well fuck'.

“I'm good,” I call out.

The commander calls back his soldiers, I see all of them come back. He orders them to set up...

Oh that rat bastard. They came prepared.

Someone lays out a blanket and they sit on the rock platform before the Ring. A field canteen is being poured into cups and I can smell the pollen-tea from here. Those look like biscuits.

Fine then. I get comfortable among the towers and unwrap my own rations. The bean cakes are dry and the meat is starting to turn.

*****

I awaken in the rocks.

It's a talent of mine honed over seven years. I can sleep anywhere under any circumstances yet stay aware of my surroundings. I listen, hearing the sounds of the Ring as the wormhole closes. I look out from my perch to see the Genii are still there, plus one. I vaguely recognize him. I saw him at one of the gatherings the Genii call 'balls' and the Lanteans call 'boring'. I almost don't recognize him with pants on.

The commander points to my forest of stone towers as he speaks to the newcomer. This man nods and walks in my direction. I stay quiet, waiting, watching as the man walks up to and between the rocks. He looks all around except up.

He's right below me. I watch him, waiting to see if he notices me. I think of the ways I could kill him like this. I could jump down, I could throw a knife, I could collapse a tower, I could just drop a rock on him. He must sense my thoughts in some way because he finally looks up and screams at the sight of me.

I should be insulted that this unaware excuse of a skinny scholar is who they send to convince me. “Yeah?” I ask.

“How... how did you get up there?”

“I climbed,” I say. I demonstrate by climbing down. “So why have they sent **you** in after me?”

“You... they said you wanted to know what the Genii can offer,” he says. “There's food and purpose and vengeance and--”

“Spare me the basics,” I say, cutting him off. “I haven't yet been offered anything I can't get on my own.”

“There's knowledge,” he says. “We have the Red Book. How well did you know the Lanteans, I wonder? Did you really know them as well as you think? Or only as well as they wanted you to?”

I want to refuse. I should. They were my friends. But then I remember Sheppard's confused and self-righteous face as he defended his choice to ally with a Wraith. I remember the ridiculous notion that their religion doesn't match their history and their insistence that the Red Book is nothing more than a giant complex lie large enough to span the creation of a world. I remember how McKay described Earth's religions as giant complex lies large enough to span the creation of a world. Sheppard insisted they were different, McKay never did. I've been curious for a while now, ever since the Storytelling of 'The Hobbit'.

“You would share your knowledge of the Red Book?” I ask.

“Of course.” I can tell he doesn't want me for the army at all. This man wants to pick apart my time with the Lanteans, to see if there's anything else they might learn. With the Lanteans gone I might be their only hope in learning more.

“All right,” I allow. I hold out my hand. “Ronon Dex.”

“Apprentice Lander Belen.” He takes my hand.

It doesn't feel like a mistake. It feels like an opportunity.


	2. Of the Underground City

The Genii village is as it always was. Young women in tight corsets watch me as I pass by, I can hear them falling into groups whispering about me but I'm not here to unbind them. Larger women unbound by corsetry herd children toward the tava fields. The men seem to be missing. Or maybe the Genii have begun to cease their subterfuge now that Kolya's pet Wraith went home to tell all its friends about Genii technology. There's no point in hiding if the enemy knows exactly where you are.

I'm taken to a small outbuilding. There's a metal hatch that I'm instructed to climb down. My soldier escorts take fore and aft, two in front, two behind, Apprentice Belen leading the way. I haven't been searched. I suppose that means they trust me. Or maybe they trust my ability to get out of here no matter what they do to prevent it.

The underground city is vast. I didn't think there would be windows overlooking the caverns. I look up to see huge support beams holding up the rock like the roots of giant metal trees. An underground river flows past a dam and into a vast underground lake. The Lanteans say the Genii use nuclear power for their society but then why can I feel the giant turbines in that dam from here? It's a low-level hum that I feel in my bones, like the rumble of a giant animal.

There are small lighted windows all around the cavern's edges. Living quarters, research labs, meeting places, training facilities, it's all here under the world's surface. No wonder the Lanteans worked so hard to keep Radim in power if it meant they could ally with this.

I won't ruin that. Even if the Lanteans never come back.

“This way,” Apprentice Belen says.

I nod, still looking out at the city. I don't move from the window. I wonder if Sateda could have withstood the Wraith if only we'd built underground.

If only...

Apprentice Belen steps closer. He stands next to me and looks out at the view. “It's breathtaking,” Belen admits. “Sometimes I'm amazed someone like me can be a part of this.”

“You're Genii,” I say. “Isn't that enough?”

Belen shakes his head. “I'm unfit for the military,” he says. “A weak heart, the doctors say. I would have been assigned to the surface to keep up the Great Charade if not for the Red Book.”

“The book?” I ask.

Belen smiles. “I've only recently come to the Archives.”

That explains why he's not as pale as the soldiers. He's lived in the sun.

“The Lantean's gift of the Red Book has started public debate among the Archivists,” Belen continues. “What do the stories mean? How much is history and how much is allegory? Do their beliefs have anything to do with their abandonment of Atlantis to the Ancestors they found in the Void?”

“You want me to clear up some of this debate,” I say.

“You are one of the few who can,” Belen says. “You lived with the Lanteans for over a year. You must have heard other stories, other songs. You even saw the Ancestors of the _Tria_ , you can tell us why the Lanteans left.”

I choose my words carefully. “I may know some.”

“That is more than we dare hope for,” Belen says. He leaves me at the window overlooking the underground city, clearly expecting me to follow. I take a deep breath. The air smells faintly of wet metal as I let myself be led further into the depths.

*****

The Red Book is in that fat Lantean script I was only just learning how to read. I know which letters are vowels, which letters are consonants, how to tell where words begin and sentences end. I know the sounds of the vowels. I know the words 'the' and 'a' and 'if'. I know how to count to five and I know some great swear words. McKay told me if I swear loud enough pain hurts less. I tested it a few times in Atlantis but then Dr. Weir told me to stop. I still don't know if McKay was right.

I know beyond any doubt that I do not know enough to even begin to read this book.

The print is small, the words are strange, I've never seen maps like this.

Apprentice Belen and Archivist Rainar are both looking at me like they expect me to read this thing. “I can't read it,” I say.

Belen looks disappointed. Rainar merely looks resigned.

“I just started learning the Lantean language,” I explain. “I know their letters, I know some basics, I know their numbers are base ten.”

“Base ten?” Rainar says, growing interested again. “Are you sure? All civilized worlds use base twelve.”

“I'm sure,” I say. “I said the same thing when Sheppard told me. They use base ten. All their math is base ten, though their computers use binary.”

“This changes our estimation of their years,” Rainar says. He takes a pad of paper out of a bookshelf and begins making calculations. At least I recognize these numbers.

I ignore the Genii as they start talking about numbers, the true lengths of years, and whether elves are an idea, were truly immortal, or were simply long-lived beyond human lifespans like the Ancestors. I have nothing to add to their debates so I turn to the open Red Book.

The pages are thin paper edged in gold. It might not be true gold, it doesn't smell like it. The pages have warped around the red satin ribbon that marks some middle page, the beginning of a chapter. I recognize that much as well as the 'Of' as the first word of that chapter. Most of these chapters begin with 'Of'. Perhaps it's some naming convention?

“Ronon Dex, I'm glad to see we could change your mind.”

I look up to see Ladon Radim enter the room. I hum in greeting then turn back to the book, listening for his every movement. I hear him circle the reading table to face me. “So this is what brings you forth,” Radim says. “Not vengeance, not battle, this.”

I level Radim with a glare. He does not impress me. “The Lanteans are unassuming with their holy books,” I say. “Their library held many books, some with multiple copies. Holy books were not kept separate.”

The debate in the corner ends abruptly. “Really?” Balen says, suddenly standing too close to me. I glare at him and he steps back.

“What types of books, I wonder?” Rainar muses.

I shrug. “I'm not good with their language,” I admit. “Never had the time.” I never had the will, either. The Lantean language is not a highly useful one to know. Nobody else uses it.

“Surely you heard...” Rainar says.

“There was a book,” I say. I pause here for effect. “Something called 'An Introduction to Elvish'. The library didn't have enough copies. There was a waiting list. I think it was a language book.”

“Did you ever hear that language spoken aloud?” Rainar asks.

I shake my head. Even if I had I wouldn't have recognized it.

The Archivist and the Apprentice continue their musing. It morphs into another debate.

“There's something I'd like to discuss,” Radim says to me. “We're preparing a strike against a Wraith facility. I'd like you to be present for the attack.”

I nod and follow him out. If I'm to be rewarded with knowledge I should be willing to pay for it.


	3. Of the Hidden Fortresses

I am pleased.

The mission was a success. Genii explosives are not the gray Lantean blocks I'm used to. Instead I was given sticks the length of my forearm that fit comfortably in the hand. Each stick had a fuse we were to light before planting the explosive and then our instructions were to run like hell.

The facility was small but there were many hibernation chambers. I don't care what the Wraith were using it for, all I care is that a crate of these Genii explosives placed carefully around the control room killed anything that might have been sleeping in those chambers.

We lost three men. They were unclear as to what 'and run like hell' meant. Even McKay knew what that meant.

I sigh, my victory bittersweet. This was the first strike against the Wraith I've undertaken without Teyla or McKay or Sheppard. It was a good strike but it still feels wrong to strike without them.

Perhaps Teyla will join me on the next one.

*****

“You saw the Ancestors,” Rainar says.

“Yeah,” I say.

Rainar looks like he's expecting me to continue. I wait for him to break the silence first. “And?” he says.

I shrug. “They fled the Wraith,” I say.

“They 'fought' the Wraith,” Rainar says. I think he's trying to correct me.

“No, they **fled** the Wraith.” I tell him a story. About the _Tria_ and her crew. How they fought the Wraith until it was advantageous to flee back to Atlantis. How they received word that all of the Ancestors were fleeing out of the galaxy, retreating to their strongholds on Earth. How the _Tria_ chose to flee Pegasus for good, following their kind to the far spiral of Earth's galaxy. They fled so far and so fast their hyperdrive collapsed halfway through the Void. Then they had a choice. Return to the battle and fight for those of us they left to the appetites of the Wraith, or continue to flee across the Void the only way they could.

They fled. Even at the mercy of the Void they couldn't bear to return here to continue the battles they left for us. They refused.

They fled. Their own vaunted lives were more important to them than the millions here who would be slaughtered and consumed at will by their own failure.

And so the _Daedalus_ found them in the Void and made the mistake of bringing them back to Atlantis where they evicted the Lanteans. Now they're holed up in their fortress where they don't have to watch the Wraith, their old mistake, maraud across the galaxy.

The Archivist has gone quiet. I think I may have broken him.

I'm not surprised. The Athosians took weeks before they realized they too had been cast aside by uncaring Ancestors who only thought of their own safety. And the Athosians had lived it, had been forced to leave behind the lives they'd built on Lantea's mainland in favor of a blank planet and an empty promise of an empty future.

“The elves did the same thing,” Rainar whispers. “Morgoth poisoned the land, sent his armies out to ravage the people, enslaved the humans of Middle Earth. But the elves of Gondolin closed their gates and suffered none to pass. They were safe within and that's all that mattered. The elves of Doriath were the same. The Girdle of Melian hid the entire realm... like a shield...”

I wait for him to come to a conclusion. At this point McKay would be snapping his fingers and talking without breath, describing some great idea. But I suppose this Archivist Rainar is no Wanderer for none of that happens. Instead he trails off and falls silent.

I ignore his stare. It's the stare of a broken man, I've seen it often enough. Instead I look at these papers he's brought. They appear to be translations of stories from the Red Book into Genii.

I can read Genii.

*****

Radim comes to me in the mess hall. Strange, he never eats among the men. He looks grave. I make a noise of acknowledgment and keep eating.

“Archivist Radim told me a distressing story,” Radim says.

“Not surprised,” I say. “Lot of those.”

“About the Ancestors.”

“As I said, lot of those.”

Radim sits across from me. He pulls my tray away. I think he expects me to growl at him like an animal. I merely look at him and put down my knife. I let my hands fall in front of me as I watch him watching me.

“The Lanteans left, too,” Radim says.

Now I do growl. “Not willingly,” I say.

He doesn't look convinced.

“The Lanteans were forced out,” I snap. “They didn't have a choice.”

“A single ship of Ancestors?” Radim asks. “Surely they don't live like Travelers.”

“The Ancestors returned, locked the Lanteans out of the city's technology, then told them to leave,” I say. “The Lanteans felt they had no choice. Didn't stop them from trying. I heard them pleading to stay even as they were pushed through the open Ring to Earth.” I'm exaggerating but not by much. I remember the crushed look in Sheppard's eyes. Dr. Weir acted like she was leaving her soul behind on Atlantis even as she walked through the Ring with pride. McKay had to be forcibly led like a child Wanderer trying to follow a river. The Lanteans were all subdued, all empty, all leaving under a protest they didn't dare voice.

“They couldn't defend themselves from invaders?” Radim asks. I don't like that calculating tone.

“They didn't feel they had the right to challenge the Ancestors,” I say. “They hold the Ancestors to a similar reverence as we do. They must be as disappointed as we are.”

“So what do we do?” Radim wonders.

I grin. It's a predatory smile without mirth. “The Ancestors fled,” I say. “The Ancestors hide. We stayed. Even the Genii no longer hide. They may have brought us here, told us our cultures, promised to protect us, but then they fled. They hid. They broke their promise to us. What did we promise the Ancestors in return?”

“We didn't.”

“Then what do you owe them?” I stand, leaving my tray in front of Radim. If he wants to finish my rations he's welcome to them. I need to see the stars.

I need to talk to Teyla.


	4. Of the Return of the Lanteans

New Athos is coming along nicely.

I suppose.

I mean, I understand the allure of a tent, I really do. I'd have killed for a tent while running. Sometimes I did kill for a tent. But Atlantis had buildings with roofs that didn't blow around even when staked properly. Atlantis had windows that could be shut against the chill night air. Atlantis had walls that kept out the sounds of footsteps creeping through camp. I never had to hear rursus snuffling in their barn in the middle of the night. I never had to be jealous of a rursus because they get a barn with walls while I have to restake my tent three times a week to keep it from falling on me.

These are supposed to be permanent settlements.

Teyla said something about her people being more comfortable like this, about the importance of a nomadic lifestyle and needing to know they could pull up stakes and leave if they had to. Now that they're no longer protected by the Lanteans it's even more necessary that the Athosians regain their trust in their own ingenuity. I understand.

I'm still honestly considering sleeping in the rursus barn. The Athosians let the Wanderer sleep in there, why not me?

“I knew you would not be happy here,” Teyla says.

I'd grown used to solid construction again. The Genii Underground doesn't have wind. The only sounds were of the men in adjacent bunks and the low rumble of the turbines. I could relax there knowing my squad, or at least men who would be my squad, were asleep near me.

“It's okay,” I lie.

“You seem troubled,” she says. She leads me away from the main settlement and from prying ears.

I sigh. “I shouldn't have accepted their offer.”

“You did have reservations working for the Genii,” she says.

“I don't work **for** them,” I say. “I work **with** them. It's different.”

“The Genii are the most powerful and organized humans fighting the Wraith,” she allows. “Perhaps the Ancestors will do something. But thus far they have not. The Genii have. You have.”

“You could too,” I tell her.

“My people are farmers,” she says. “On Atlantis it was different. My people were safe, secure, a jumper ride to the mainland away. Now...”

“You don't think you can leave,” I realize.

She shakes her head.

Then this is the beginning of goodbye.

And then it isn't.

Teyla forgoes the greeting of her people, opting for the more awkward Lantean 'hug' as Sheppard, McKay, Beckett, and Dr. Weir step out of the shadows. She holds them each in turn, pressing against them like she's trying to share body heat.

I'm not so blinded by elation. “Something's wrong,” I say.

“Yeah,” Sheppard says.

Teyla's joy fades.

I hear rustling in the night. I refrain from looking, I don't need to draw its attention, but it sounds like a child. I let it be and wait for Sheppard or McKay to say something.

“It's the Replicators,” McKay says. “They took the city. The _Daedalus_ will destroy Atlantis to keep it out of Replicator hands. We have a better idea.”

I grin. “We take back the city.”

“Got it in one,” Sheppard says.

I crack my knuckles. The Lanteans may refuse to stand up to the Ancestors but these Replicators are fair game. I will enjoy this.

*****

I enjoyed that. All of it.

Maybe not all of it. But I enjoyed it.

Too bad these guns only work on machines. I like these guns. It's not my gun but they're still great guns. I'm going to keep one. I might need one again someday. I might even have a place to store it instead of having to carry it everywhere.

I work for myself. The Genii know that. The Lanteans know that. At least, they'd better know that, both of them. I will be beholden to neither of them.

There are little metal pieces in the corridor outside my room. I pick up a handful and let the little bits run through my fingers. It feels like sand. If I had a bottle I'd keep some, hang it on a necklace. A sandy metal trophy to remind me of this battle.

Instead I'll keep the gun.

I'll... this... this is not my room. This looks like a prison cell. There's nothing here but the bed and the toilet. Was this the Replicator's doing or were the Ancestors that dull? I might have defended the Ancestors once, surely they live for more than this, but I don't even know anymore.

I leave my new gun there, prop it against the wall in the corner. New trophies will make this room mine again.

I find Dr. Weir in her old office. It's not hers anymore, either. The chair is missing. The control room feels different now. Even without the knowledge that we destroyed this room and the Replicators rebuilt it, I would feel the difference. The windows are wrong.

The city itself is all wrong. It's empty.

There's no hum of the turbines. There are no pattering voices debating this idea or that. The marines are missing. The technicians aren't here. The archivists are gone. The only voice that makes sense is McKay's and he's voicing the same issues I have.

The city is empty.

There's no food here.

We don't have any of our stuff.

We have no idea when the _Daedalus_ is going to be back with all our personnel. It's been three months since the Ancestors took the city, will any of them want to come back? What if none of them come back?

I tune out McKay's terrified rant that he might have to retrain a whole new group of scientists to be his minions. Still, he raises valid points.

“We can't stay here,” I say.

“Exactly!” McKay shouts. “We can't stay here, there's no food! What will we eat?”

“We could return to New Athos until the _Daedalus_ returns,” Teyla offers. “My people would gladly accept you until then.”

“Farming again,” I mutter. Teyla fixes me with a smile that promises pain.

“We would be grateful to accept your offer,” Dr. Weir says.

“We should gather our things then,” Teyla says.

“Maybe leave a note,” McKay says. “In case people show up and think we went native.”

“I think we **are** going native,” Sheppard says.

“Maybe **you're** going native, you pointy-eared elf.”

“I am not,” Sheppard snaps. “And don't you dare start. I'd just gotten used to Tolkien being fictional again.”

“Wait, elves have pointy ears?” I ask.

“Of course,” McKay says. “Tall, pointy ears, weird hair, you know, like Sheppard.”

Sheppard growls. I merely stand in thought that turns to shock. I remember...

The Ancestors had ears like Sheppard. All of them.


	5. Of the Secrets of Earth

Ladon Radim sat in his office, the orders for a strike against a Wraith facility before him. All he had to do was sign.

Sign and he'd be sending those men to their deaths. None of them were capable without a Runner's expertise. Refuse to sign and he'd be admitting defeat to his men and his Confederation.

He signed.

Ten men would die. One of Ronon's former group would lead them. The facility was small, might hold more under the surface, they wouldn't know for sure until the soldiers arrived. One crate of dynamite among them. Enough weapons to defend themselves long enough to realize they'd failed.

Radim shook his head as he slid the orders away, back to the waiting hands of his secretary. “Maybe we'll find our own Runner,” he said.

“Reports say there are several active in the galaxy,” his secretary said. “Most don't live long enough to make names for themselves. Not like Proud Death.”

“Most aren't Satedan,” Radim agreed. “Maybe the Wraith will catch a Lantean and set him to run.”

“With all due respect, wouldn't the Lanteans object if we denied mercy to one of their own?”

Radim smiled ruefully. “They didn't object when we kept the Red Book.”

His secretary nodded and left.

Radim just didn't understand the Lanteans. They wouldn't defend their claim over Atlantis from the Ancestors but they'd charge in to defeat the Replicators, a much more dangerous foe. They wouldn't even send an army to retake the city, instead they sent a small handful. One medic, one weapons specialist, one soldier, and their leader. If that's all it took to retake the city from Replicators, the same Replicators who decimated the Ancestors of the _Tria_ , then why did they give up Atlantis in the first place?

His thoughts were interrupted when his office door was thrown open with a loud crash. He looked up to see Archivist Vocan carrying a half-dressed little girl. The girl waved.

“You couldn't have gotten the report first?” Radim asked.

“You need to hear this yourself,” Vocan said. He put the girl down and knelt next to her. “All right, my dear, now I want you to tell Chief Radim exactly what you told me.”

She nodded. “It was midday when I came out of the Ring onto New Athos,” she said. “There were bugs. Little yellow ones that hide out in the weeds and look like the flowers then jump out at you when you run through. I like those bugs, they don't crawl they just hang on and jump off when you find new weeds for them.”

“Wait, wait,” Vocan said, interrupting her. “I want you to skip all that. Move on to the second night when the Lanteans arrived.”

The girl stared off into space, her face lax and her eyes focused unseeingly at the wall ahead of her. Her hands moved as though paging through a book or perhaps she didn't know she was moving her hands at all. She seemed to come to the right memory and expression returned to her face. She smiled broadly then began again.

“Dinner was rursus stew again,” she said. “The same pot of stew they had when I showed up. The rest of the rursus carcass hung in the chill house because of the windstorm. The Athosians were tying down their tents real tight because they didn't want to blow away in the night. Dr. McKay threatened to sleep in the rursus barn with me if it blew that hard again. I said it was okay because he'd keep me warm. He's really warm and he snuggles and he sounds like a rursus when he sleeps. All the rursus thought so too because they snuggled around us and it was warm and fuzzy and we didn't hear the wind at all as it blew three tents over.”

“Stop,” Vocan said. He sighed and gave Radim a pleading look.

Radim shrugged. This was why he usually waited for the report.

“Tell him about the elves,” Vocan pleaded.

The girl went quiet. Her nose wrinkled in frustration then she went blank.

“You're still going to have to give me a report,” Radim said.

Archivist Vocan visibly slumped. “Yes, sir,” he said.

The girl brightened and began again. “Oh! Dr. McKay told John Sheppard he's a pointy eared elf! Because elves have pointy ears just like Ronon said the Ancestors do and John Sheppard has pointy ears and we know John Sheppard has the blood of the Ancestors.” She grinned triumphantly.

Radim looked on in shock. It made a twisted sense. The Lanteans claimed their world didn't revere the Ancestors yet when faced with the crew of the _Tria_ they caved like any true believer. The Red Book showed that same level of reverence toward the beings known as elves. The easiest way, the only way to reconcile these facts was...

The elves of the Red Book **are** the Ancestors.

It cleared up so much. Living forever in Valinor was how they viewed Ascension. The rare pairings of elves and men bred those few among them with the blood of the Ancestors. It even explained their willingness to give everything they had to the Ancestors of the _Tria_ because the Red Book told them they were unworthy of the wonders of the elves.

Unworthy of any of it.

Because men of Earth fell to darkness so easily. Dr. McKay couldn't create with his world's greatest tools, he could only destroy. Colonel Sheppard made a deal with Kolya's Wraith and kept his promise to the creature despite all rules of etiquette and survival. Lieutenant Ford took upon himself the strength of a Wraith worshiper and used it to strike against the Wraith again and again without care for contracts or tactics. They took in a Runner and refused him the merciful release of death, instead granting him the gift of vengeance. There was rumor the Athosians harbored Blood-Tainted and these men of Earth counted those as their greatest allies.

The Lanteans were so drenched in darkness that it made total sense. They left Atlantis for the Ancestors who returned because they couldn't deny the elves their fortress. They couldn't taint the elves with their own darkness. But the Replicators were another matter entirely.

Radim dismissed Archivist Vocan and the girl Wanderer. He waited until they left before getting up and heading to the cabinet on the wall. He poured himself a drink from the decanter there and downed it.

He'd known the Lanteans were dangerous the moment they defended Sheppard's alliance with a Wraith and followed it with a vow to hunt Kolya. He just hadn't known they were **this** dangerous.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [tumblr](http://nebulousmistress.tumblr.com/) where you can find a hundred little fanfics I never posted here. Check it out, drop a line, maybe dare me to write something for you.


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